


to sleep by your side and wake uninterrupted (we may manage it, one of these days)

by MatildaSwan



Series: it's a wonder what can happen when a witch uses her words [1]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Hallway Scolding, Implied Sexual Content, Mildred Breaks The Rules Again, they schedule snuggles on their birthdays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Mildred never was the most sensible of witches, and her timing really is the worst.





	to sleep by your side and wake uninterrupted (we may manage it, one of these days)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopeiasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/gifts).



> did I have an idea about Mildred breaking into Miss Cackle's bedroom and whisking Hecate out of the arms of her sleeping wife only to wake up alone and seething, before putting her foot in it leading to a Meaningful Conversation w Mildred 'capable of making more subtle connections that she has a right to' Hubble, only to realise @cassiopeiasara's unrelated prompt of 'jawline kisses' fitted in perfectly? the answer is yes, indeed.
> 
> Note: based on the idea that same-sex relationships are commonplace in the witching world, and Hecate's canon panic surroundings romantic emotions is bc she's just really bad at feelings, not bc she has feelings for other women.

Hecate slinks back up the mattress to stretch herself out beside Ada, still on her back and breathing heavy: a bliss filled smile on her face to match her flushed cheeks and sweat-salt crusted brow. She shuffles closer to press her lips against Ada’s jaw, peppering kisses along the bone before moving to her cheek, over the apple, then dotting one more, ever so lightly, against the corner of her mouth. She smiles against Ada's warm skin, and feels herself pulled closer. 

They savour the moment—evenings spent together during term time are a rarity, but a birthday is a special occasion; Hecate would never dream of sleeping anywhere but by Ada side tonight, even if Ada hadn’t insisted on the gift of Hecate’s company—as their breathing slowly returns to normal.

Eventually, Ada cracks open an eye to gaze up at Hecate’s smug, adoring face, and leans up to steal a kiss for herself; Hecate is still distracted when Ada casts a shower spell over the two of them. She breaks away as tingle of magic rushing over her skin and quirks a brow. Ada simply looks at her, the picture of innocence; shrugs and holds her tight.

Hecate sniffs, wiggles out of the embrace already aching to return; waves her hands to cast a transference spell back to her room to be triggered in the occasion one of the students needs her attention, another which would alert her to any problem in the castle along with a discovery spell to tell her what and where. It is a habit, nothing more: she is positive they won’t be distributed, tonight of all nights.

‘Come on, darling,’ Ada beckons when she senses Hecate’s magic compete. Hecate snuggles into the crook of Ada’s neck as Ada pulls the covers tight around their chins.

The mattress dips under added weight, by their feet. Hecate raises an eyebrow as she cranes her neck, sees their familiars turning, twirling, snurgling, before finally settling themselves to spoon in their sleep. Her heart warms at the sight and she turns her face towards Ada, finds her face fond and soft as she gazes down at their feet, and cannot resist stealing one last goodnight kiss.

Hecate falls asleep with gentle smile on her lips and Ada's soft snores in her ears.

(She does not hear the scampering of tiny, mischievous feet along the stone of the hallway on the other side of the door, nor the hush of whispers muted through the aged wood, or even the creak of Miss Cackle’s door being opened).

*

She wakes up with the fizz of magic rushing through her, cold sheets over her and a cold mattress below her and no one beside her. Opens her eyes to see the back of her own closed door and flies out of bed, her bare feet landing on stone cold floor. She shivers, snaps her fingers to find herself fully dressed, the way it ought to be.

She sucks in a shaking breath, fuming with rage, and snaps her fingers again; materialises outside of Ada’s bedroom door to find Mildred Hubble closing it ever so gently behind her, a pair of keys clutched tight in her hand.

Morgana rushes towards her. Mildred tiptoes backwards and turns right into Miss Hardbroom; she stumbles back with a soft ‘oof!’

‘Mildred Hubble,’ she hisses, voice low and menacing. She might have softened slightly to the girl since her arrival—she really has improved, even if she remains the worst witch in her year—but her patience has limits and this smashes it right through. Not that she's surprised. ‘I might have known.’

Mildred whips around with fright in her eyes, swallows audibly, but does no look away; Miss Hardbroom takes the lack of concern for anyone else as proof of a solo mission. Morgana confirms her suspicions as she winds herself around Hecate’s ankles.

‘All on your own tonight?’ she asks, sickly sweet and glinting with steel. _It would have been smarter to bring a friend_ , Hecate thinks, to have someone else distract her attention, shoulder the burden. But Mildred never was that bright, because tonight, of _all_ nights, she decided single handedly break into the headmistress’s bedroom, bursting their bubble, not to mention ruining Hecate’s sleep in the process.

‘Miss Hardbroom, it—it isn’t what it…’ Mildred stammers out the beginning of what is sure to be a pitiful excuse. It will do nothing to change the irrefutable facts:

‘You are out past curfew, sneaking about the halls, and breaking and entering into the personal quarters of a member of staff, _who also happens to be your headmistress_!’

Mildred has the good sense to hang her head in shame instead of trying to explain herself.

‘How dare you show such blatant disregard for the rules of this academy! They are there for your safety, not for our own amusement!’

A curl brushes against her cheek and she bats it away, tucking the stray lock behind her ear. Another falls onto her neck and she flicks that away too; she should have thought to bind her hair when she dressed.

‘Not only have you needlessly interrupted our sleep, but whatever nefarious schemes you had planned—

She is too busy fuming to hear Mildred mumble: ‘Our sleep?’

‘—Which necessitated stealing from a teacher!—'

‘How did I wake you?’

‘—would have no doubt put the entire school at risk!’

‘Your room is in the next tower…’

She pauses to glare at Mildred, expecting to see her blinking back shame; finds her staring at Morgana, now sat by Hecate’s feet to clean herself, and frowning with consternation instead.

‘Who’s that?’

Hecate almost rolls her eyes. ‘Can you not recognize a witch’s familiar when you see one?’

‘But just now, she was with Miss Cackle…’ Mildred brow creases even further, pouting too. She looks up with something confident and unsettling on her face. ‘Miss Hardbroom, were you…umm, were you sleeping in Miss Cackle’s room?’

Hecate’s stomach falls through the floor; she burns white fuzz and tingling. Morgana’s coat fluffs ridged but Hecate’s mind races to fast to think of soothing her. The panic returns to Mildred’s eyes.

‘Not that it’s any—I’m not prying!’ she reassures, keys jangling as she raises her hands in open palm surrender. Hecate wonders if cleaning the dungeon would be worth the effort, or if she should just banish her to the moors. Mildred’s shoulders slump and she stares at the ground to mumble, ‘I just, didn’t know witches could love other witches.’

Hecate frowns, _what an obscured notion_. ‘Well of course we can. Why wouldn’t we?’

‘Normal people, they—'When my mums were still together people weren’t always, welcoming.'

Hecate stiffens even further. ‘We are _not_ non-magic users.’

'But I didn’t know if—if things were the same here.’ Mildred scuffs her shoe on the stonework, as if kicking it gently might help her find her feet.

Hencate furrows her brow, thinking back to the summer her Grandmother had been ill and she’d been shipped off into the care of her nearest, and to the embarrassment of the Hardbroom lineage, non-magic relatives.

One afternoon, she and her cousin had clambered up an old oak tree to escape the constant chasings of a group of boys who lived nearby. She wanted to turn them into frogs, but Colette had refused to let her use magic; they’d spent the next hour listening to the boys croon about them ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G’ while stuck up a tree. Eventually, Colette’s Father had found them, and the boys had scattered along with their song. But her Uncle seemed more interested in what the two of them were doing behind the cover of oak leavesthan why they’d be up there in the first place. The undercurrent of why had needled Hecate long after she’d returned home again.

‘No, Mildred,' she hums thoughtfully. 'I don’t think they are.’

Mildred finally lifts her eyes from the floor and looks right at Miss Hardbroom. ‘Then why hide it? You and Miss Cackle?’

She flustered. ‘We don’t _hide_ it.’ She brushes away a spot of dirt on her dressing gown. ‘Our marriage is simply nobody’s business but our own.’

‘You’re _married._ ’ Hecate glares at her. ‘Umm, congratulations?’ Hecate sighs; Mildred frowns. ‘Wait, then why are you both ‘Miss’?’

‘Why are we still…oh, enough!’ She doesn’t stamp her foot in a huff, but it’s a near thing. ‘No more of these silly questions, you wretched girl, _please.’_ She really just wants to go back to sleep. ‘You can bother me all you like during tomorrow’s detention.’

‘Yes, Miss Hardbroom. Sorry, I really wasn’t—'

‘Stop! It is extremely late, and I am _tired._ Now will you please stop nattering, give me those keys, and _go to bed._ ’

Mildred nods sharply. Miss Hardbrook waves her hand: the ring of keys clip themselves to her chain and the hallway empties. She could swear the castle gives out a sigh of relief with Mildred settled safely in her own room.

‘Dear _lord_ that girl tries my patience sometimes,’ she mutters down to Morgana, slinking past her legs to wait patiently at Ada’s door. They slip swiftly, silently, out of the hall, both eager to return to Ada’s bed, Hecate triple locking the door behind her. She hangs the keys back on the hook as Morgana settles back onto the foot of the bed, slips out of her dressing gown, and slips back into bed, careful not to disturb her wife for all she knows that Ada could sleep through an earthquake if she wanted.

Ada sniffs once, as Hecate settles still, before shuffling closer; gravitating towards her in the dark. Hecate smiles gently, shifts even closer—Ada’s hair almost tickling her nose and warm breath on her collarbone—presses a light kiss to her scalp, and falls asleep with the sound of Ada’s sleeping snuffles in her ears.


End file.
